


You Done, Marine?

by BreakfastPasty



Series: Smut, Fluff and Drabbles [3]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Breakfast is the only meal, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Drill Sergeant Behavior, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kidnapping, Lust at First Sight, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Post-Canon, Power Play, Praise Kink, Sex Soulmates, Sir Kink, Sloppy Ending, Smut, The Smut is near the end, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22415824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastPasty/pseuds/BreakfastPasty
Summary: Lauren Slater didn't want a part of anything, was happily working a small job as a dishwasher, then Frank Castle Decided to show up when she was avoiding her nightmares. Frank Being Frank decided that Kidnapping her would be the best route to safety.Or,Frank Kidnaps Ex-Marine to protect her from an unknown threat.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Smut, Fluff and Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411762
Kudos: 5





	You Done, Marine?

The first time I met Frank Castle, I didn't know who he was. I bumped into him in a crappy diner too close to three am for me to be too happy about anything. Nightmares of explosions and gunshots had kept me up and I was now too past tired to try again, so I figured, why not stop for coffee before heading to the gym. I realised he must have been ex-military by the way he held himself, back straight, arms to his sides. I also clocked the pistol in his jacket. 

He apologised to me. A quick and quiet, "I'm sorry, Ma'am." but it didn't matter. I was too tired to care. 

"It's alright, Soldier," I mumbled in return as I took my mug of black coffee from the counter and sipped it before decided to sit at the counter. He looked at me, firing hand twitching slightly and I simply smiled, hoping he'd take it as a waving of the white flag. He relaxed a shot and nodded, sitting two seats away, hands wrapped around his coffee mug. 

I'm not going to lie and say I didn't feel intimidated, sat at the counter of a dingy diner in the middle of a not-great neighbourhood in a what could equate to a school girl's uniform if you ignored my service jacket over my shoulders. Black and white plaid skirt, white shirt, grey tie. I didn't care that I was way past school, the clothing was comfortable and it boosted my confidence. 

"You earn that jacket?" He spoke finally, voice low and harsh in his throat but like honey against my ears. He was hot. There was no   
the way I could deny that, but I wasn't looking for the company.

"Yes, Sir. Two years in the Marines."

"Ever Deployed?"

"Yes, Sir. Afghanistan."

There was a silence again, both of us, deciding against the conversation to continue procrastinating sleep over coffee. I didn't want to need to talk to someone and by the bruises on his faces and how white his knuckles had become, I could only assume that he felt the same way. Time went slowly and I couldn't help but run my hand through the thickest part of my short head. 

Me and him had the same haircut, I realised. Albeit my hair had grown out a little, but I'd tried to grow mine out. Not cause I missed long hair, Not whole-y anyway. It was half because I enjoyed the stage of messy short hair. 

The silence wasn't hostile. You know how sometimes, some silences can be sharp and pointed. To get someone to leave. That silence between me and this handsome stranger was soft. Gentle. Friendly in a I-Don't-Know-You way. I say this, so you'll understand that I could tell when there was a question on his tongue, even as we both stared at our coffees, I could tell he wanted to say something.

"Hey, Uh, What's your name?" He asked, turning to me a little. I looked up at him, taking in the cut that had been stitched up along   
his cheekbone and the bruises that scattered his face.

"Lauren Slater." I said calmly, holding out a hand for him to shake, "Nice to meet you..."

He took my hand to shake, silent for a while as though he was thinking of the correct answer. What the fuck is the correct answer to   
'What's your name'. After a few seconds, he found his answer and gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Pete, Uh yeah, I'm Pete, Castiglione." He answered, before letting go of my hand. I nodded, half to myself, turning away to take another pull of my coffee. I checked the time and groaned, out loud, before I noticed my little mistake. I didn't have time to feel bad about my open reaction before Pete started laughing, low and a little hushed. He ran a hand over his face before turning back to me again.

"I boring you, Slater?"

"No, I'm starved." I admitted, "I haven't eaten since... Uh, I can't give you a time." There was half a second from me thinking about food to my stomach giving an almighty growl, as though it could scare off the hungry. That did not work. I did, however, start Pete chucking again, albeit subdued.

I didn't give him time to speak again before I was talking with the waitress about getting me and myself something for food. I ordered myself an omelette and looked to Pete, asking politely what he'd like. 'Bacon, Eggs, Sausage'll do'. Ordered, I pulled my wallet from my coat, before looking up and finding that Pete had already passed the waitress a few bills to cover the coffees and the food. God Damn, Marine Chivalry.

"You didn't need to do that."

"You didn't have to, either."

There was that soft silence again.

When our food was delivered to us at the bar we both decided to be polite and eat in silence. There was something about it. That felt like dinner with an old friend. It was confusing, the contrast of how this felt and how the reality existed. Breakfast with a Stranger. Dinner with a Friend.

The food was gone quickly, both of us maybe a little too hungry to be honest about it, but he watched as I stacked our plates,   
when we'd finished. My small, calloused hands moving. He seemed to want to say something, but I wasn't really in the mood for conversation. I gulped down the last dregs of my coffee, nodded to him, "Thanks for breakfast." I said and walked away, backpack on my shoulder again as I was out the door.

Now to the gym to keep my adrenaline up.

* * *

The second time I saw Frank Castle, I knew who he was. 

I was on my way to the diner again, about a week later. I hadn't seen him since the night be brought me breakfast, and I wasn't too fussed that I hadn't. It was coming up on Midnight and I still couldn't sleep, so the routine went on. Diner. Gym. Home. Work. I was exhausted, not focused on any one thing, eyes flittering about the street. I don't know how I didn't see them.

I was about a block away from the diner when they jumped me. Five men, all wearing black, pulled me into an alleyway. I screamed, of course, I did, but that didn't last long when a gloved hand came and clamped over my face, pinching my nose and sealing my mouth. I couldn't breathe. I fought back. Elbows, fists, knees, booted feet flying at my assailants, but with a sharp crack, my head hit the brick wall and I lost consciousness. 

I heard screams, gunfire, shouting.

I heard a familiar sandpaper honey voice shouting questions. "You that low? Huh! To hurt a fucking woman?!" He shouted and I wanted to punch him. If I'd been conscious enough to move. "Who do you work for?!" The question came with an answer, a mumbled name before a harsh crack. Then I heard footsteps, fast, light, coming my way. My first instinct was to fight and as soon as the bearer of those footsteps was brash enough to pick me up, I kicked out and snapped my eyes open.

Everything was varying degrees of grey and blotching red. Everything flashed white when I was dropped, but I pushed myself to stand up, hands coming up in a defensive position. The man in front of me raised his hands, not in a fighter's stance, but in surrender, his hands open and his palms facing me. 

"Hey, hey, hey, Slater. Stand down, I'm not gonna hurt you, yeah?" He growled and took a step towards me as my legs started to buckle, lunging forward to catch me as I collapsed, my head stinging and eyes watering uncontrollably, "I got you. I got you, you're okay." 

I was pressed against his chest, hard, slick fabric against my hands as I tried to grasp onto anything to ground myself. I didn't want to pass out again. I. didn't. want...

When I woke up, I panicked. I forced my body upright as I surveyed my surrounding. Spartan bedroom. The bed I'd just gotten up from, made with green and white sheets. A punching bag on a hook in the corner, wrapped in tape. and open duffle bag, packed with clothes. Light, flooding through the open door on the right side of the room. I could smell food from the other side... Bacon?

Another push and I was on my feet, the soft tap of my combat boots against the woods sounding like a gunshot as I tried to monitor my noise. I didn't want whoever had me to know I was conscious. Two steps to the door, back pressed against the wall and I sat him. The man from the Diner, 'Pete', stood in a black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, frying bacon, sausages and eggs. His face was cut up from a fight, bruised. 

Behind him on the counter sat a very familiar symbol, spray-painted on a bulletproof vest. A warped skull. The Punisher. I felt, despite not knowing the man at all, betrayed by his lie. Fuck Pete Castiglione. Fuck him. 

I growled and slammed open the door, "Fuck you, Frank Castle!" I exclaimed, glaring at the shock on his face. It wasn't overblown. Genuine shock. "Sorry, No," I reeled back, "Fuck you, 'Pete Castiglione'." I growled, pushed him hard and watching him stumble, only a little, "You know what? Fuck this." I growled, walking out of the kitchen. My eyes were not watering. My hands were not shaking as I snagged my service jacket from the back of a chair on the way to the door.

I Didn't make it.

A hand caught the scuff of my shirt, spinning me about and pinning me to the wall. His body was pressed against mine, knees braced against my thighs, moving to catch my hands and pin them above my head, "Shut the fuck up!" He shouted, glaring down at me and suddenly I was thrown back to Bootcamp, my drill sergeant in my face, yelling at me for the state of my shoelaces.

"Do you hear me, Slater?!" Frank Castle shouted into my ear, "You would be Mincemeat, Do you hear me, Marine?" He growled as he slammed my wrists back against the drywall. My chest was shaking against his as he stood so close, only inches away. The Man with 37 murders on his record. 

"Yes, Sir." I tried to shout back, my voice wobbling, trying to ignore the heat between my thighs. The burning of his skin on mine.

"I Said, Do you hear me, Marine, Do you hear me!?" He screamed again and I steeled myself for the 'Motivation'. The hit. It didn't come.

"Yes, Sir!" I screamed before he let me go, taking two steps back, watching me as I arranged myself at attention.

"Drop and give me Twenty." He shouted, turning and walked back into the kitchen. The apartment was relatively open plan so I watched as he returned to fixing himself breakfast before Shouting another 'Yes, sir' and dropping myself into a position where I could complete my punishment. Twenty push-ups. Easy enough, normally. When I'm emotional, my head pounding and I'm scared for my life? Easier. The adrenaline helps.

Twenty. Finished I move back into attention, watching him take two plates from the cupboard and serve the food onto them. "Sit your ass down." He said, low and as soft as his voice could go. Gentle. He was being gentle. I gave him a soft 'yes, sir' and sat at the breakfast bar across from him as he sat. This silence was scared. I wanted to ask what was going on, but I was scared. He wanted to explain but he didn't want to scare me.

Breakfast was wolfed down and Frank looked up from his plate to me, sipping his coffee, "You done, marine."

"Yes, sir." 

"Not the food. You, you done lashing out?" He said. The way he moved when he spoke was, predatory. Stops for tension, moving his head to give off a sense of false security. 

"Yes. Sir." I said, emphasising the title only a little, so try and make it sound like I had a little fight left still. I didn't.

"Good. I'm going to explain what happened. You are going to listen. Questions are for after." He said and I remained silent, pulling   
my knees to my chest as I listened to him.

"You were jumped on the way to the diner, the men who jumped you are coming after me. Probably saw us talking that night a few weeks back. One of 'em knocked you out with the intention of taking you in for 'questioning'-"

"Torture?"

"Interrupt me again, I throw you out to the wolves, you hear me?" He threatened though there was no fire behind his eyes. "Yes, torture, no shit. I heard your scream on the way to the diner myself and got you out. You were pretty fucked up and I didn't know where to take you, so you're here, yeah?" He said, "I do not intend on Kidnapping you. You think you can look after yourself out there, I'll let you go." He said finally.

"Permission to speak, sir."

"Yeah, go."

"I'll stay," I said honestly. I didn't see the point in risking my life if what he said was true. The tale rang a few bells, but I was pretty out of it, so I couldn't recall all too much. "I assume I'm housebound."

"You're right, Marine." 

"Could you use my name? You're not my drill sergeant and I'm not your recruit."

Pete- Frank laughed and nodded softly, "Sure thing, Lauren." It sounded so soft on his tongue. I didn't mind. Hell, I didn't mind half of what he did. He could beat me bloody and I'd thank him if I got off in the end. I tried to hide my widened eyes and the shake of my head. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow and I bit my lip.

"Do I call you Pete or Frank?"

"Either." He hummed, bracing his elbows on the bar and resting his chin on his hands. I got bored of the sitting and staring very quickly, getting up, taking the two empty plates and moving to the sink, turning on the water and getting to cleaning, the frying pan included. "What are you doing?" He asked, voice rumbling in his throat and sending shivers up my spine.

"Cleaning. Least I can do." I admitted as I scrubbed the grease from the pan, finding calm in the task. There weren't many things I enjoyed doing, my job was one of them. I didn't do anything interesting, I worked as kitchen staff in a fancy restaurant in the middle of the city. I did things like washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen up after the chefs. So really, cleaning up after Frank when he was done cooking. It gave me a little sense of the familiar.

"You have family, Lauren?"

"Nope. Haven't since I enrolled." 

The silence was back, both of us doing our things. I glanced over, curiosity killing the cat, to see him cleaning a double-barrel shotgun with a stolen hotel toothbrush. He looked at peace, even with the small task that was meaningless in the grand scheme of things. He looked good like that. Calm.

I gave a tiny smile before turning and finishing up what I was doing. Once the sink was empty of dishes, I moved onto cleaning the countertops, moving everything that needed to be else into their appropriate places, humming to myself as I moved around. I knew I should have been more worried, more scared about the fact I had been, for lack of a better word, kidnapped by Frank Castle. A man who had and would kill someone without a second thought.

The thing with that? I wasn't afraid. If anything I was extremely and inexplicably turned on. Well. I lie, it wasn't inexplicable. He was downright sexy. Handsome face, nose included a perfect balance of kind and ruthless, sane and crazy. It was exhilarating but I knew better than to actually act on my needs. I'd keep it in my pants until this was over. Then I'd go out and get laid. After everything's burnt out. After Frank Castle.

"You gonna tell me where you're putting my shit so I know where to find it all, yeah, Marine?"

I did not feel a shiver in my spine. I did not feel a burning in my skin. He _needed_ to stop calling me 'Marine'.

"Yes, Sir. I'll give you a run down when I'm finished." I affirmed, a little shorter than I would have liked, but he was a criminal and I wasn't going to let him in my head. I refused to.

"Good." He confirmed before moving back to the task, and I found calm in the slow scrubbing from his little brush against the metal of the barrel and the metal foil of the sponge against the marble-look countertop. After a little while, I fell into rhythm with him, the scraping sounds falling into sync, though he didn't comment, and I didn't really notice at the time. Time passed and soon enough, the kitchen was clean. Achingly clean. 

I was bored. This was a horrible thing when I was having the feels I was.

"Hey, Frank?"

"What's up?"

"Did you pick up my backpack?"

"Yeah," He mumbled, setting the gun and the brush down as he walked over to the door, opening it to show a small entryway. He came back and tossed me my backpack, "Knock yourself out, kid."

"Don't call me that." I snapped, as politely as I could, but fuck did I hate that this man, who was getting me so wound up and _hot_ , just called me 'Kid'.

"Why not? I'm like 18 years older than you? You are a kid."

"How old are you?"

"42."

"15 years. And Age is- is just a number. I know someone who married someone almost 25 years older than her."

"You planning our wedding already, KID." Frank teased a little, leaning against the wall as he watched me flounder over my words, trying to come up with a witty comeback, a denial, anything. In the end, I managed a 'Fuck me' before walking back into the bedroom and locking the door. He could figure out the cupboards himself.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of knocking on the bedroom door, "Hey, Uh, Lauren, Wake up, I want you to meet someone, yeah?"

Did I want to wake up? No. Did I know that if I didn't answer, and/or get up, he'd break that door down? Absolutely. I pushed myself up, my head still banging, though, that being said, I didn't know how long I'd been asleep. Steps to the door were gentle and fast before I unlocked the door, resting my forehead against it for a mere moment before pulling it open, "What's up, Frankie."

I caught the flinch from the nickname and filed it under 'Maybe not again if I like life' before yelping as he caught my arm, pulling my kitchen with no hint of gentleness. That's probably my fault for being a smart guy, but at the same time, I didn't know the effect the nickname would have on him. Big hands mean big bruises.

"Ay! Frank, Be gentle with her! Christ's Sake, Castle" I looked up to see a man, the same height as Frank with dark skin and kind   
eyes.

Frank looked at me, letting go as he smirked, devilish, at me, "Oh, Don't worry, Curt, She don't mind it. Do you, kid?"

If I had been fully awake, functional and able to understand the difference humour and insult, perhaps I wouldn't have punched the Punisher in the face. That being said, at the time of this discussion, I was none of those things and punching Frank Castle in the face was the best coarse of action. Was it cathartic? Yes. The sound of my knuckled thudding against his jaw was way too satisfying. Was it a good idea to keep me alive. Not particularly.

The same minute my fist made contact, he caught my arm on the recoil, spinning me and pinning against the wall, face pressed against the sickly green wallpaper. I couldn't stop the exclamation that left me as he put pressure on my arm. Was it a scream? Not really. Was it a moan? Yes. That's exactly what it was, and I'm not going to deny that. Tired and frustrated, I moaned when Frank Castle subdued with me such ease. There were no words for a while, just Frank, laughing a little breathlessly, hot air against my neck.

"See, Curt?" He said and let me go, pulling away slowly, "She don't mind it."

"Why am I here, Frank?" 'Curt' said shortly as I turned to look at the two of them, my back now pressed against the wall so I could watch them both. I watched as Frank leant against the breakfast bar and Curt sat, crammed into one of the two small armchairs made of a horrible dirty cream colour that looked as old as it probably was. 

"I need you to look after her, yeah? I, Look, I, need to get this done, Curt-"

"I get it, Frank. How long?"

"Don't know, Curt. All I need you to do is make sure no-one gets her, yeah? Not her fight."

I glared, pissed off. At the time I was nothing but pissed. They woke me up, at fuck knows what time, to let me watch them talk about me like I wasn't there and make decisions about the next fuck knows how long like I wasn't a human, with feelings and that shit. Sure I wasn't soft. I Never was, but fuck. I was right there. And there they were acting like I was still out of it.

"Hey, Fucker!" I shouted, watching as Frank and 'Curt' looked up with that same Genuine shock, "The fuck am I awake for?" I exclaimed tiredly, throwing my arms up in an exaggerated shrug with most of my energy. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, hands finding the pockets of his jean. Same clothes, I wasn't asleep long enough.

"I wanted you to meet Curt, he's one-a the few people we can trust, yeah?" He said softly. Too soft. I was too tired for kid gloves and too tired to fight about it. I looked at 'Curt' and walked over, slumping into the armchair across from him, not caring about my skirt as I looked at him.

'Hello, I'm Lauren, It's nice to meet you, Curt.' I tried to say, the tired getting to me now, "Hello, I'm Tired. It's. No, that's not. I'm Laura-en. Lauren."

"I'm Curtis Hoyle, Nice to meet you, Tired. You can head back to bed if you want, Sorry Frank woke you." 

"Frank is an Asshole, but he's a-n asshole. Nice night." I slurred and forced myself up, walking past Frank, stopping to pat his cheek, "Night night, Bear." I mumbled again and made my way to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed, to see for a little longer, ignoring when the men starting laughing from the living room.

* * *

When I woke up, the next morning, I wasn't alone in the bed and that shook me to the core. Admittedly, he was a gentleman; laid without sheets, arms crossed tight across his chest as he laid on his back. I wanted to touch him. That was the first coherent thought I had upon realising that Frank Castle was laid, shirtless, in the bed next to me. The second coherent thought was that I'd been in the same lilac pleated skirt and white shirt for over 20 hours and that was disgusting.

I gave in and ran my fingers over his shoulder a little gently, feeling the slick of nightmare sweat, listening for a change in his breathing to signal he was awake. It didn't come. I then coughed to compose myself and pushed him a little and watched as he flailed upright breathes coming out in harsh huffs and grunts.

"Hey, Hey, Bear, it's alright," I said and gripped his shoulders, enough pressure behind my hands to make him realise I was real. I was there. I still had nightmares. Admittedly, not while I'd been there, not that I could remember. Going through the motions of comforting a bunkmate with nightmares? Not a rare experience and I made sure my breathing was deep and steady enough that he could hear it, feel the cool air against his slick skin.

"Why'd you call me that?"

"Huh?"

"Bear? Why, why'd you call me that?"

I knew what he was going. Distracting himself from the nightmare. From the helplessness. "You act like one. All gruff noises and protective instinct. If makes you feel better, I like bears, they're my spirit animal." I said with a smile, moving to let him go only for his hands to catch mine. 

"Stay?" He asked, voice gentle, nervous."I... Can you stay?"

"I was just going to get you water, yeah? I'll be right back?" I asked gently and held onto his hand, looking up into that fiery black eyes. He was incredible. And Annoying I realised as he shook his head, hands on my hands pulling me back down to the bed as he fell back. I pulled my hands away slowly.

"Alright. I'm staying." I mumbled and moved onto my side to look at him, "This shithole have a working shower?" I asked softly, fighting the urge to trace patterns on his skin to calm the shivers. 

"Yeah, Yes." He answered, voice a little shakey as he nodded to the door on the wall opposite the bed, "You wanna go through before me?"

"Yeah, is that an issue?" I asked, thinking through all the possible things he could think of as hazards when it came to showering. 

"Unless you got clothes in that bag of yours, Marine, you got nothing to wear." He said, finally becoming Frank Castle again. That was a good sign. Frank may be an asshole, but he's a consistent asshole with more sex appeal than Naked Johnny Depp or Liam Hemsworth. I thought about what he'd mentioned, trying not to think too much about how he'd react to me, stark nude, walking out in a towel. 

"I could borrow one of your shirts, Unless you're precious, Castle?"

"Yeah, yeah, that works." He said and sat up, back to me as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, "Could fit two of you in one." He said with a scoff, "You slack off after your discharge?"

"No Sir." I joked and hoped up, "I'mma shower, could you leave the shirt in here? I'll turn it off to save water for you."

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Lauren." He said and I slipped into the small bathroom. It was kind of like my bathroom at home. Shower over the bathtub, sink with a mirror above it and a cabinet under it, towel rack with four towels hung properly. The toilet could have used scrubbing but that wasn't my issue, the upside was that the lid was down so, I assumed that I wouldn't have to argue with him about that while he was here.

I did was I needed to, stripped off, leaving my panties on the side of the sink so I could snag them when I was out and dry. It was nasty, but I didn't have much of a choice, not until I could get home either myself or send Frank or Curtis to pick up my things. Showering was a blessing, washing the thick blood that I had forgotten was an issue out of my hair, scrubbing my skin, from my scraped knees and palms to the old scars along my right hip and up, over my ribs. It was a massive ugly scar, one I was glad No-one had seen since my arrival back into the states. 

I made sure not to pay too much attention to my body as I cleaned up because I found that one the days I did, I found myself counting the reasons no man, or woman, could love me.

I shook the thought from my head as I finished up, climbed out, dried off, pulled my panties on and wrapped the towel around my chest. I knocked on the bathroom door hard, "You out there Castle?" I called and when I heard silence I took it as a go cue. 

I opened and closed the door behind me, pulling on Frank's shirt and I almost laughed when I found it fell just above the tops of my thighs. I debated putting my shorts back on, the ones I'd wore under my skirt but decided against it. Castle was a man, still in love with a dead woman. He could stand leg. 

When I walked out, I saw that Frank had already begun the process of making breakfast, working on omelettes, for the both of us and mumbling as it hopelessly fell apart into making a seasoned scrambled egg. I held my laugh and stood, leaning against the wall as I watched him, genuinely shocked he hadn't clocked that I was there yet. That being said, now I was in the loop of, I didn't want to spook him and get attacked, but I didn't want him to think I sneaking around.

In the end, I braced myself and coughed slightly, "Thanks for the shirt." I said calmly and smiled when he looked up at me with a small smile, nodding to himself as he looked away, back to the eggs in the pan.

"Yeah, it's alright, uh, couldn't have you wandering about in your skivvies with Curt here, right." He said as he served up, setting the plates in the same places as the previous day. I sat across from him and nodded softly. He was going to be leaving and while he was going, to 'get this done', Curtis Hoyle was going to be my babysitter.

"Scrambie Eggs for breakfast?" I hummed as I dug in and he nodded softly, looking lost in thought. I knew this silence. It was the silence of 'I'm preparing for something I'm not sure I want to do'. It was a silence I knew all too well. I didn't break it anymore, eating calmly, taking my time to eat this time instead of shovelling it into my mouth. I savoured the flavours. Salt, Pepper, Egg. Nothing special, but the balance was good. Eggs weren't as fluffy as I'd had them, but still good.

There was silence for a very long time, past the both of us eating, past the both of us finished the washing up. Past him showering and dressing. Past the weapons check. It wasn't until he fastened the skull painted vest onto himself I said anything. Did anything other than helping him.

I stood in front of him, braced my hands on his chest and looked up at him with a glare in my eyes, "You listen to me, Bear." I snapped, pushing him a little, "I will not be stuck in this whole-in-the-wall safe house for the rest of my life. You get this done and then you get back here, you hear me, Soldier?" I did not have tears in my eyes. I did NOT have tears in my eyes.

"Yes, Ma'am." He said with a little smile, taking my chin in his hand, "You hold up, yeah, I'll be back, back before you can miss me."

"Wouldn't miss you anyway, Castle. I have your sexy friend to keep me company." I tried to joke and breathed a sigh of relief when both of us laughed. I moved out of his way as he pulled the duffle bag of weaponry onto his back before making his way out the door. No Goodbyes. Goodbyes meant he wasn't coming back.

* * *

Two months. 

It had been two months and I hadn't heard anything from Frank. I wasn't mourning him. If he was a dumbass and got himself shot and killed, that was on him. I was mourning myself. My love life. 

Two months, sexless. 

I wasn't a whore. I wasn't one to go out every night and come home with a different guy. That wasn't me. Hell, Curt had been around every other night and I hadn't even brought up the fact I was unbearably horny. Instead, One night at around 6 pm, an hours before he was supposed to arrive, I picked up the burner phone he'd given me, and called him, putting a croak in my voice.

"Hey, Curtis."

"Hey, Lauren, you okay, you sound like shit."

"Feel it, Curt, Can you gimme the night. I'mma try and sleep whatever this is off."

"Yeah, Sure, least I can go."

"You're a good friend, Curt," I said as I hung up, making a mad dash to strip and get to the bathroom, locking the bedroom door behind me. I didn't mind the temperature of the shower, but I waited. Not only for the water to heat up but because waiting makes the heart grow fonder. I found myself in the bathroom, rubbing my thighs together as was waited for the water to hit temperature before I got in. 

I didn't start with it. Draw it out. I washed my hair, taking my time, ignoring the throbbing between my legs. I ran my hands through my hair, pulling the longer hair, biting back my moans as the anticipation was becoming too much. I rinsed my hair, pulling and playing with it gently, closing my eyes and trying to picture that I wasn't alone. That someone. Anyone. Maybe Natasha Romanoff. The sexy assassin with a second chance. Maybe the devil of Hell's kitchen. I wasn't a fan, but he could keep that suit on. 

It didn't work. It was Frank. I tried to think of anyone else, but it was Frank as I slid my hands over my body, squeezing at my breast, gripping at my hip as my hand moved between my legs, imagining his hands on me. I remembered how his body felt pressed tight against mine and I moaned as my fingers- His fingers- grazed where I needed them most. I was too sensitive from the time without it. I needed to be slow or I'd be gone in a second. Worked to oversensitivity. It was too soon for that. 

Small, gentle circled over my clit with two fingers as I leant back against the cold, steamy wall of the shower, allowing myself to get out small whimpers, allowing myself to moan, little a little until the touch. I imagined Frank's face as he listened to them, before biting and kissing at the sensitive skin of my neck as he sank two, thick fingers into me. Fuck it felt so good, curling two fingers up and into my sensitive spot as I rutted my hips against my hand, wrist catching my clit as I hunted for friction, desperate. I imagined his voice with little praises 'Good girl', 'That's it, marine'. I'd be lying if I said I didn't imagine his harsh little warnings, 'What did I tell?' 'Hands, Down, Marine'.

It ached. The pleasure physically ached in the pit of my stomach and I moaned, Letting my noises flow. Fuck if the neighbours were pissed, they were loud enough to drive me insane anyway. Little mewls, turned into moans, turned into screams and I found that, at some point, I'd slid down the all, sat in the bathtub, legs wide as I pushed my fingers into me, practically screaming Frank's name as it got closer and closer. That burning in my veins, consuming me in a stunning golden fire as my climax was just a little further.

"LAUREN!"

I stopped instantly, fighting my breath to normalcy as I picked myself up, quickly slathering myself in soap as I heard the bedroom door fall from its hinges, followed by the bathroom door slamming open. Frank was HOME. He had the worst and best timing and I struggled to find words as he pulled the curtain back, face battered and bloody, a look of concern breaking his features, as he tried to slow his breathing. 

I didn't cover myself. He didn't look away.

"You're a mess, Castle."

"Why were you screaming for me?" He snapped, voice low, loud and growling. I couldn't hide the way my legs quivered and the way my face flushed red. I didn't need to say anything. He understood. With a slow nod, he pulled away from the edge of the bath and started to pull off his blood-soaked clothing. I couldn't tell if it was his, or someone else's. Once he was bare, I did my best not to look, turning my back to him as I scrubbed my skin. 

I felt him get in behind me, his hands falling to my hips, "You done, Marine." I took a deep breath and looked at him.

"Yes, sir." 

"Not the shower. You, you done?" He said slowly, softly, looking down at me and suddenly I was two months ago, shaking from his raised voice, his body against mine, almost like this.

"No, Sir."

"Help me," Frank said shortly, switching out positions so he was under the spray of water and I nodded, taking the soft side of the sponge, covering it in sensitive soap, something I assumed he had in the house, solely for this. I was silent as I sponged his shoulders, over his chest, listening to the patter of water and the slow breathes he was taking. I had to ask. 

"Is it done?"

"Yes, Ma'am." I almost sobbed and leant my head into him, resting my forehead against his chest and he chuckled, albeit with a small wheeze, "Breathe, Marine, I got you, yeah? I got you." He growled protectively and I did. I sobbed. 

"Bear, is it so bad I missed you?"

It was silent and I took that as a yes as I got to sponging him down again, pulling the dried blood from his skin and being methodical, tactical with it, not lingering as I knelt to sponge his legs, leaving his junk. He didn't want me attached, he could do that shit himself. I stood up again, cleaned the sponge, re-soaped it and looked up at him, "Turn." I said with a small smile, trying to show there were no hard feelings. He did as I said, trying and failing to hide the confusion on his face as I sponged his back, stopping this time, to run my fingers over the scarred up exit wounds. Someone had put this man back together against I hadn't been there. 

Once I was done I set the sponge down and pulled away, "I'll let you wash your hair." I said and got out, towelling down, pulling on my shirt and shorts.

I'd managed to used the laundry room in the basement of the building a fair bit over the last two months to make sure, I wasn't wearing old clothes every day. 

Once I was dressed, I walked out and pulled my boots on, packing my back and heading to the door. The war was over. I could leave. Go home, watch cheesy romance movies on Netflix and eat way too much ice cream for my health. Get over this pointless crush.

"Where are you going?" He voice was hard but brittle, like rock candy. Fuck, that was the best way to describe his voice in general. Rock Candy. 

"Home, Frank. The Fight's over, I'm safe. I'm going to try and find another job and pull the shambles of my life back together." I admitted and gasped when his hand caught my shoulder and he pressed me against the wall, looking down at me with those Bear eyes. Dark. Stern. Powerful.

"Lauren. You listen to me." He growled, holding my arms, "You are not going anywhere, alright?" He voice snapped, breaking a little and he lost his vigour, his touch gentle as he caressed my cheek, and pulled me close, "I can not, can not lose you, yeah?" He mumbled, into my hair, not seemingly caring that the mop of dark hair was still damp. "Am I clear?" He mumbled there, his hands on me still, holding me tight to him. 

"Crystal." I whispered and smiled up at him as he pulled away, "I understand, Bear." I managed to get out before his lips descended on mine. He tasted like blood, most likely from his slip lip and who knows how many times he'd be forced to bite his cheek. The kiss wasn't loving. It couldn't be. We didn't know each other. The kiss was powerful, telling, as he picked me up, grunting a little at the strain it put on his injuries and I tossed my bag onto the floor as he pinned me against the wall, kissing down my chin, down my neck, stubble harsh against my skin, but I didn't care. 

"Fuck, Marine" He growled as he pulled away. I pushed off, hopping down. I needed what he was offering me, no matter how out of it he was, no matter if he was going to be weaker. 

I looked at him with a small smirk as I made my way back to the bedroom, unbuttoning my shirt slowly, "Are you just gonna stand there, Frank, or are you gonna help a lady out of her clothes." I purred and winked at him and laughed as he growled, jogging over, picking me up and over his shoulder as he carrying me back to the bedroom. I didn't mind, He'd lost his towel along the way the view his ass was stunning. Even the single bullet scar that made it's home there. 

He tossed me onto the bed and _tore_ my clothes from my body, laughing with me as he kissed down my jaw, "You with me, Marine?"

"Yes, sir." I moaned into his ear, before kissing him, biting his lip gently and relishing in the way he groaned. He was so rough and unrefined, but that was exactly what I needed about him. I slid my hand down his stomach, wrapping my hand around his already stiff cock, moaning at the weight of it in my hand and the feel of his hands on my bare skin as he worked my shorts off, my panties discarded with the rest of my clothes. 

This wasn't love. I didn't even have to convince myself, I could feel it. This wasn't love, this was pure lust and I didn't care.

His hands were as rough as I'd imagined them, sliding down my waist as he knelt between my legs, looking down at me, with a look of fondness in his eyes, that I'm sure was reflected my own. Until his thumb skimmed over my clit and I jerked, eyes falling closed. I'd come down from my almost high but this was still so beautiful, the oversensitivity pulling at the edges as he slid a finger into me, thick and rough. I couldn't stop my moan. It felt so much better when it was _him_. His fingers. 

He curled them, grazing my spot and I mewled, leaning up, desperate for him against me, my hand stuttering in it's long, slow strokes of him. "You're so wet, Doll." He growled into my ear and I felt that crescendo, that hit of pleasure that he'd so easily pulled from me with a few simple words. I moaned and cried out as he slid another finger into me. I was too sensitive, too in need. 

"Shh, shh, Doll, I got you, just breathe for me." He whispered and kissed down my chest, his own voice strained as he bucked into my hand.

"F-Frank! I need you, please, please I need you to fuck me open, _please_." I begged, shaking under his lips and the small movements of his fingers. He pulled away and looked down at me, eyes somehow darker and burning so bright.

"Protection?"

"I'm on the pill, Fucking hell, Frank, Please!" I mewled, way too desperate to give a shit about how needy I was, how weak he must have thought me. I just needed it. Two months. It's too long.

"Alright, doll, breathe for me, yeah? Can you do that?" He grumbled, kissing at my jaw as he pulled my hand away from him and pinned them both above my head, "You behave, you hear me?" He growled and I nodded as fast as I could, blushing as he chuckled breathlessly against my neck, "Good girl." He cooed, moving one of his hands assist in the slide. I was so wet he didn't need it, his back bending to push his thick cock as far into me as possible, the both of us shuddering. 

The feeling of it was heavenly and almost instantly I felt that forgotten Orgasm creep back up to me as we both rolled and rocked our hips, trying to find a rhythm, eventually falling into something that worked. It worked, oh so deliciously, with the way his hips ground against mine, the way his cock filled me perfectly. Words were forgotten for a moment before he growled.

"Not gonna last too long." He growled against my neck, his hands holding him above me as he rolled his hips so perfectly, pulling that golden fire back through my veins. All I could do was moan out a simple 'me too' as he moved against each other, hot, slick skin sliding perfectly against one another as he moved us perfectly. I couldn't stop the way my legs started to shake. I couldn't stop my helpless whine when he slowed down and the pleasure pulled back like a tide as he tried to prolong it for the both of us. 

"Fucking hell, Castle, Just fuck me!" I growled when I'd had enough of his push and pull, moaning when he growled against the mark he'd been pulling from my neck before his hips started to snap back and forth. Hard, Ruthless. I was burning again in no time, gripping the pillow to try and hold my hands away from him. His constant growl in my ear was grounding and I was burning, Moaning and screaming his hand as he praised me. Little words telling me I was being so good for him. Taking him so well. I was so close and he could tell, from the shake in my legs to the loud, high-pitched moans he was fucking out of me. 

"Choke me!" I said, perhaps a little too frantically but the way he looked up at me, with a promise not to hurt me in his eyes made it okay. Made it perfect as he wrapped his hand around my throat and squeezed until there were spots in my vision and I was struggling to moan. 

My orgasm hit me like a train, clenching every muscle in my body and wrenching a scream from me. A few seconds later and Frank was growling and groaning into my neck, as he coated my insides with his warmth before slowly pulling out, both of us just laying there for a minute. But I started to giggle. And he started to chuckle. All this hell and war and it was over. All of it.

I was Free, with Frank Castle as a Bootycall.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written smut, in a long while, so I'm very sorry if this is bad!   
> I just finished the Punisher. All of it. I don't have enough Frank Castle in my life, so I'm making more. 
> 
> If you wanna have part two of this, I will consider it, but I did write this little one-shot so I could actually finish something and feel good in my ability to do that!
> 
> I started writing at roughly 12 pm on the 25th of January 2020 and finished it all, writing, ending and this at 8:27 am on the 26th of January 2020. No Sleep was involved in the production of this ficlet.


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